


It can’t haunt you if you don’t let it

by veredgf



Series: Plus One in betweens and more [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s11e03 Plus One, F/M, MSR, POV Dana Scully, slightly nsfw, tie-in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veredgf/pseuds/veredgf
Summary: Tie-in for the main "Plus One" bed scene.





	It can’t haunt you if you don’t let it

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second “Plus One” bed scene tie-in fanfic. It gradually came to be and as I wrote it, I actually found myself understanding things a lot better. [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13663305)’s the first bed scene tie-in fanfic in case anybody’s interested. They can be read apart as well, though. 
> 
> Aside from “Plus One”, this fic contains refs to “My Struggle III” and “This”.
> 
> Special thanks go to an anon who responded to my fanfic Q a few days ago and also to the amazing ladies at the facebook group - ‘The X-Files Fanfic Writer’s Guild’ who took time to respond to the same Q: [Zoonr](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoonr/works), Jessica Penny, [Kyouryoku Senshi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyouryokusenshi/pseuds/Kyouryokusenshi), Arwen Meyer, Brittany A P Phillips, Christine Tilley and Gry W Christensen.

_Not another night in this motel_ , Scully thought as they drove into the, now familiar, motel driveway. She was so tired but the combination of her bleak mood and having being woken up in the middle of every single night of their stay took her patience to an all-time low. Even seeing her own doppelganger didn’t put a dampener on her glum and weary feelings.

It wasn’t the case’s freakiness that was bothering her. In fact, she so wished it did, but the irony was that the weirdness was actually a good old friend… so what was it? Thoughts of aging, possibly. OK, definitely thoughts of aging, but why now? What was the difference? It’s not like she woke up one day with this realization. What happened to good old rational Scully? Where the hell did she go?

She unlocked the suite door and entered its living room quarters, aka, Mulder’s room. The place was already getting the Mulder décor treatment. The sofa bed had a clumpy mass of blankets thrown on it, topped with two crumpled standard G-man shirts and a tie. Another tie lay beside the sofa, on the floor, looking almost like a trodden snake. Pairs of socks decorated the carpet along with three beer bottles all randomly positioned in different sections of the room. For the complete look Mulder included three pizza cartons, all containing various levels of munched and much disheveled pizza buds.

Scully half-snorted – half-signed at the typical mess. She’d been living with Mulder for three weeks now, ever since she came back from her hospital stay, and unlike the time they used to officially live together as a couple, this time she felt more like a guest and she didn’t get in the way of his routine, i.e., she didn’t bother with the mess. At first it was a deliberate decision. After all, he had invited her to stay as a friend… but then it soon became something else. What exactly was this something else? For starters, oddly, she actually enjoyed being a slob. She enjoyed having him and his untidy life all around her. She began to embrace those cozy evenings on the sofa, with the takeaway leftovers threatening to take over every remaining corner of the living room and the weird fifties movies and series they watched day in and day out, while they just nestled against each other. At first she didn’t even notice this, but when they were basically almost killed in their home, she realized she was pissed that somebody was getting in the way of this new routine of theirs. She realized she didn’t want it to end.

She was so deep in thought that she hadn’t even noticed Mulder was now right behind her. When he put his hand gently on her shoulder, she jumped like a terrified cat. Then she realized who it was and she felt silly.

“It’s just me, Scully,” Mulder said, his tone somewhat concerned.

“Sorry,” she blurted out as she strode inside.

“Is everything alright?”

_No_ , she answered in her mind, but out aloud all she said was “I’m just tired. Going to have an early night.”

“Sure,” Mulder didn’t argue, but his tone was still laced with concern.

She entered the suite’s bedroom and closed the door behind her. Crossing into her section in the suite was like moving into a different world. The strict order was a striking contrast to Mulder’s chaos. It wasn’t the Motel’s cleaning staff who took care of it since they preferred that nobody access there room while they were on a case. No. _She_ took care of _her_ quarters. It was just so ingrained in her nature. All her suits were hung in the cupboard in perfect order; all her shoes standing in attention in a row and even the clothes in the laundry bag were neatly folded. There was no food in sight. She didn’t eat in her room. Instead she joined Mulder for Pizza and beer but unlike him she threw her remains in the trash.

She sighed as she recalled how things were when they were living together as a couple. With Mulder around, she really didn’t need a child to take care of. She was always after him and his endless mess. Whenever she pointed out to an item he forgot to put away, he never argued. Still, for him it was the chaos that was ingrained. Somehow she kept up with his untidy nature and she managed to keep their home in decent shape. But that was then.

She bit her lip. _Dammit, Dana!_

She stared at the bedroom's classic creamy walls, and the cheap framed prints that hung on them, and sighed. She wanted to go home. And by home she meant to her current residence, in the cozy unremarkable house in the middle of a field. But sadly, she was supposed to return to her apartment now that the threat to her life had ended. That's what she and Mulder had agreed upon when he invited her to stay with him. Well, it was more an order than an invitation, she noted to herself, but it wasn't something she had any reason to argue about.

So now she was wondering if her mood was actually _not_ related to the case at all but more to the fact that once it was over, she had to go back to her previous living arrangement and she really didn't want to go back to living alone anymore.

But how would she be able to tell Mulder? After all, _she_ was the one who left _him_. Yes, she did it for his own good. At least she believed it was for his own good. At the time Mulder had taken great offence at her leaving him. He wasn't shy about telling her that not everything comes up smelling like roses and that partners need to deal with the shit as well. She thought she'd explain that her being with him was just enabling his depression and not helping him, but she realized that a paranoid and extremely depressed person won't be able to see things in a different way. So she left and Mulder didn't mind making her feel guilty whenever they _did_ speak during that time. She just kept her opinion to herself and let him speak his mind uninterrupted.

As time went by, she began feeling unsure about her decision. Maybe she was being selfish and she was trying to paint it as if she was just being kind to Mulder. The fact that she was away from him gave her a different perspective. There was a certain feeling of release and freedom. Not having to deal with his antics and sarcastic attacks whenever she was home with him actually felt good. Ironically, she used to love Mulder's dry humor, but the depressed version of that humor was extra bitter and she felt like she was gradually being dragged down with him into the darkness. And then when they were apart, it did feel refreshing for a while, but quite soon she began to miss him, yet she feared going back. She knew Mulder wouldn't change. It was really up to her. This was the person she loved. This was the good and the bad; the entire package.

Now that she'd found herself spending time with him again, it felt like a strange combination of a honeymoon mixed with married life. It was weird in the sense that she really didn't feel that Mulder had evolved while they were apart. It was more that _she_ had. She figured out that the one good thing about their separation was realizing that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Mulder, depression, quirks, antics, madness and all. This was her package, and she wanted to unwrap it, the sooner the better.

But did Mulder still want to unwrap her?

With that dismal thought still lingering in her mind, she finished getting ready for bed and soon she was under the covers and deep in sleep.

* * *

She smiled when she realized she had returned from the case and Mulder hadn’t asked her to leave his home. She decided to let sleeping dogs lie and not to bring up the subject of her going back to living on her own. Mulder didn’t mind. Maybe there was this unspoken agreement, that nobody talked about their separation anymore and they’d just put that miserable part of their life behind them, no questions asked.

They got into a routine; working as partners on the X-Files and living together as a couple. Soon the sofa wasn’t used just for watching TV. No, soon the sofa was used once again as the stage for their sex-cepades. And not just the sofa. If she was having her doubts about their relationship and if it should be called as such, it was the sex and the romantic dinners and the dates that settled that debate in her mind. They were definitely not playing roommates anymore. It was the real deal.

And the years went by. They were having a party for Skinner’s retirement. Next it was time for Mulder’s retirement and she decided to retire with him, not willing to stay with the Bureau on her own without him.

They enjoyed their time together now that work wasn’t in the way anymore, finally having time to see the world. Mulder could find a conspiracy or a demon wherever they travelled. She’d play along as the skeptic to his theories, because this was just their thing. She always knew what he was going to say, and he knew what her answers would be.

This was the life she wanted to have. Yes, they had no kids or grandkids but at least they had each other.

They were entering the driveway to their home after yet another vacation. She got out of the car and slung her overnight bag across her shoulder. “I’ll turn on the heating,” she shot out as she climbed the porch’s steps.

“Sure,” Mulder shot back at her, while opening the trunk to retrieve their suitcase.

She unlocked the door, entered their home and proceeded to the bedroom when she stopped abruptly and looked behind her.

All of a sudden Scully realized she wasn’t the person who had just entered their home. She was now looking at a person who looked just like her walking through her home, and now that person, her… twin… looked behind her and their eyes met.

Scully was startled by the glaring expression in the woman’s eyes. That woman, she was her… but…

“What are you doing here?” her lookalike queried.

“I…” Scully was at a loss. Just mere seconds before this was _her_ life and now she was some intruder stalking the life of this other woman who looked _exactly_ like her. What the _hell_ was going on?

“Go away!” her double yelled. “This isn’t your life! It’s mine!”

Scully’s heart beat fast, her eyes widened with horror. She wanted to run away but her feet felt planted to the ground and she wasn’t able to move—

And then she opened her eyes and she realized it had all been a dream. She was in the St. Rachel Motel where she and Mulder shared a suite. The dream had rattled her so badly her heart was racing like crazy. Suddenly she had the strangest feeling as if somebody was watching her and she turned around abruptly but there was nobody there. Still, the creepy feeling remained.

There was no chance in hell she was going back to sleep. Not now. At least not on her own. She pulled herself up to a sitting position on her bed. She remembered when she’d had sleepless nights like this back when they used to live together; she’d be mulling over a medical case she was unable to solve. It would wake her up in the middle of the night at times and she’d sit up on the bed, and Mulder, ever the paranoid sleeper, would wake up with the first creak made by her movement. He’d notice something was off about her and he’d get up and join her. Sometimes they would talk; other times he’d just hold her tightly and it would just be his presence that would make everything better. She yearned to be held by him at that very moment.

She shoved her blanket off and then got up and padded to the connecting door. She heaved a deep breath and then pushed very slowly on its handle until the door opened. To her unexpected surprise, the door and handle movement didn’t emit any sound and so her trespass into Mulder’s suite section went on unabated.

She caught sight of his impressive back and shoulders as he lay in his ‘bed’. She knew he’d been working out for some time now. When they returned to the Bureau he took on an even stricter training regime, and she had become privy to his current exercise routine once she’d moved in with him. At times she even joined him, as she had to keep up with her _own_ training. During those times she enjoyed admiring each muscle that had been enhanced in his body; definitely most impressive for a fifty-something year old.

Now that she stood staring at him like a stalker in the night, she contemplated her next move. But before she could make a decision, Mulder jerked all of a sudden and turned around. For a second he seemed spooked but then recognition set in.

“Speak of the devil,” Mulder said, now not seeming even one bit flustered by her uncharacteristic presence.

It was the moment of truth. “I can’t sleep, Mulder,” she told him.

“Ahh… what’s the problem?” Mulder had fully turned around to face her now.

She inhaled deeply. She’d had enough of trying to deal with her feelings on her own. “Something about this case is getting under my skin.”

Mulder stared at her, obviously concerned. “We’ve had stranger cases, Scully.”

She knew he was right, but logic was not playing a factor in her feelings this time, and the thing about the case that was getting to her wasn’t related to the case per se. She wasn’t sure how to approach the actual subject. All she truly yearned for was to feel better and the one thing that made her feel better was having him near her. “Can you hold me?” she pleaded.

For a moment surprise took over his expression and Scully thought he was going to offer an excuse to why he shouldn’t fulfill her request, but then she could see him changing his initial reaction and she knew that he read the desperation in her face. He nodded. “I can do that,” he told her as he pulled the cover back, letting her into his bed and also into his heart.

She got in the bed beside him. He covered her up and then embraced her with his arm. The feeling of his warmth was more than just physical. She relished in it, feeling Mulder’s calm composure engulfing her and breaking down her insecurities. There was no logic that could explain her feelings or the reaction she had to Mulder’s embrace. It was just a fact that the best medicine for her worries was his touch, and this was a dire time that needed more than just a tiny spoonful. She needed bucket loads of it.

He was arched perfectly along her body, matching her every curve as she spooned deeper and deeper into him. She felt the flesh of his leg as it touched hers and she pushed her foot until it intertwined with his. He didn’t resist. Whatever reservations he seemed to have had to her request just seconds before were totally gone. He was now totally on board. He slightly rocked back and forth as he grabbed hold of her wrist and secured it and she took in his scent, almost as if she were smelling the ground on the first day of rain, enjoying every whiff of his manly odor.

The close contact brought so many memories back, with one memory towering above the rest; the first time they had become more than just very good friends. The first time they went to bed together with the deliberate knowledge that they were a lot more than that to one another. When light kisses and bashful touches were just not enough anymore. They wanted the whole package. She remembered it as if it were yesterday; sitting on his battered sofa in his old apartment. Moving closer and closer, looking sideways at him, finding his anticipating lips and honing on them. Getting up, still kissing and walking like this as they both simultaneously began to remove each other’s clothes, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom. Landing with a splash onto his bed, basically devouring one another, like two ravished people who hadn’t eaten in months. Indeed, they were just that. It erupted like a volcano and she knew there was no way they were going back to what had been before. This was the person she wanted to be with forever. It had been so clear that night back in apartment number 42.

“What’s gonna happen?” she wonders aloud.

“What’s gonna happen - _when_?” Mulder is clueless and unable to read her thoughts.

“When we’re old,” she tells him, feeling sadness coming back, knowing this current moment was just a fleck of a shadow of what used to be an amazing relationship.

“What do you mean, _when_?” Mulder just about snorts.

A tiny smile flits across her lips at his response. Once again it’s clear that Mulder had no problem embracing his age, unlike her.

There was a long pause. She wanted to just tell him that she didn't want to live without him anymore. That she wanted to undo what had been done. That she wanted to be with him till the bitter end. But how was she going to tell him this when just a while ago she had left him under the pretense that it was wrong for them to be together? And what will happen if she threw herself at his mercy and he blew her off? She was terrified about finding out, but just as terrified of letting things remain as they were.

So she chose to approach the subject with caution and see in which direction the wind blew. "Sooner or later we're going to retire and…"

Mulder mumbled an agreement and moved his head slightly backward.

"…are we going to spend time together?" she continued, feeling apprehensive.

"I'll come push your wheel chair," Mulder joked and then he added as he huddled closer, "with _my_ wheelchair."

She snorted, but despite his attempt to lighten the mood up, Scully's refused to take off. "That's not what I mean," she told him, feeling that possibly she had already lost the battle and her chances of having him back were gone for good.

"Oh, I'll always be around, Scully, offering bulletproof theories of genius that you fail to assail with your inadequate rationality." He was still trying to keep things light, but his tone told her he _did_ understand what she was referring to.

She responded with her usual expected retort, "And I'll always be around to prove you wrong." But her heart wasn't really interested in their usual 'believer vs. skeptic' game. If Mulder had understood her need for him to always be around, why wasn't he willing to delve in deeper? Why did he prefer to stay on the safe grounds of 'friendship' instead of trying to move beyond that with her?

“Hmm?” Mulder pushes closer to her and pulls her towards him.

“Promise,” she tells him, still playing the game despite it all. _Damn!_ This was just pure agony. “No. But that’s not what I mean,” she repeats.

“What _do_ you mean?” Mulder asks.

She heaves a deep sigh. _Be brave, Dana_ , she orders herself. _If you won’t tell him, he will never know. Just plunge into the water despite your trepidations_. “What if you meet someone?”

She could feel him pulling back slightly and her heart fell. _Damnit!_ But no, she couldn’t stop now. The hell with it all! She either got the answer she wanted or she got something else but at least she’d know for sure. “What if you meet someone… younger and…” She could hear him sighing, but she continued, “…who wants to have kids?”

“ _That’s_ what you mean,” Mulder responded and his tone seemed hurt for a fraction of a second, but then he recovered. “Well… you could do the same... You could meet someone… Have kids…”

Was he just trying to be kind to her? She snorted. _Seriously?_ “Mulder, that’s not gonna happen.”

“That’s nonsense,” Mulder continued.

She was actually somewhat peeved by his ridiculous insistence. “No it’s not. I’m… I’m at the end of that journey,” she felt sadness taking over the place her anger habited just mere seconds before.

But then Mulder surprised her with his next question. “Well… do you wanna have more kids?”

“Well… I would have liked to have had another one.” The pain she felt only deepened but she welcomed it now. They never really spoke about having another child. Maybe they just didn’t want to re-open that wound. It had never healed and they were both scared what talking about having another child would mean. Neither was able to deal with another loss. So the subject was buried deep down in some bottomless pit. Until today.

“Hmm… at the risk of sounding insensitive… what’s… stopping you?” Mulder plunged in, albeit quite gingerly.

“Mmm… Besides the fact that the first time was a miracle? And besides the fact that… I don't have anyone to have one with even if I could?” She should have responded with anger. His question basically hit the most painful subject she’d ever had to deal with, but she didn’t feel annoyed. Instead, the mere fact that they were talking about this delicate subject gave her both the chance to tell him how she felt and also the chance to figure out his feelings on the subject. The strange thing was, she wasn’t sure Mulder was really talking about another child since it was truly impossible and he wasn’t stupid. Instead she felt that it was like this code name for a second chance at their relationship.

“You’re a woman of science,” Mulder didn’t relent.

She found his comment funny. She talks about miracles and he throws science her way? And she’d already been down the scientific alley re child bearing and it exploded in her face, but maybe if this was a reference to their relationship, this could actually mean that there’s always a way.

OK, she’d push things a little further, see how deeply committed he is. “Sometimes I think the world is going to hell and we’re the only two people who could save it.”

“The world _is_ going to hell, Scully. The president working to bring down the FBI along with it,” he responds.

_No Mulder! Don’t try to divert away from the subject!_ OK, her previous words were a little too vague. She’d have to stop beating about the bush and hit the target. Well… sort of. “What if we lose our jobs?” She hoped he got her message. It was definitely not jobs she was truly referring to.

“Well… _then_ what would we do?” he responded and there was something playful about his tone as if he were saying to her ‘fancy that, we’re both without a job and plenty of time on our hands.’ He could have suggested she’d go back to her position at the hospital and he’d go back to his lonesome life, but he didn’t. He did say _they’d_ do something. Not that _he_ will do and _she_ will do. It was something for the _both_ of them to do _together_.

She turns to face him. She looks deep into his eyes. He doesn’t flinch. “We’ll think of something,” she tells him and he just smiles and to her this says it all. There was hope. It was tiny but it was there. If they’d lose everything, they will find a way and it will be a joint journey.

For a while they’d just remained like that, with her staring deeply into his smile and him transfixed by her expression. And then his face moved in closer, and she responded in kind, having no doubt in her mind what was going to happen next. His lips hit the target and hers parted and they kissed passionately just like that time back in his old apartment. Once again she just about drank him in like a thirsty desert traveler, finally finding an oasis.

There was no pulling back now. As they kissed they somehow sat up and he sent his hands to her body and pulled her deeper into his. She wrapped her hands around him, feeling the curves of his well-built muscles as she dug her fingers into them. He was now untying her gown. Next he unbuttoned her pajama top. The clothes just disappeared into thin air in her mind. She didn’t even notice, but through the grabbing and the kissing and the tearing and the pulling they’d somehow left their bodies and now there was nothing getting in their way. Flesh met with flesh. His fingers trailed along her body, circling her breasts, sending delightful tremors through her. He was partially arched above her, and his eyes, they were constantly following hers. She pulled him back on to her, feeling his chest rubbing against hers, feeling his penis entering her and finally the thirst and hunger she’d felt were answered, and it was far better than the first time when she hadn’t known what was going to come. Now she was like a junky finally getting her drug back and hitting the most amazing high.

Later on, as they lay there, once again spooning each other on the motel’s sofa bed, a glowing Scully finally fell asleep with hope in her heart.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a crappy sex scene writer… I hope you can forgive me on that one…


End file.
